


I've seen your face before

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: But I’m also a failure as a human being so, Canon Era, Comedy is not the main focus, Gen, I tried to be funny, You can guess how it turned out, in some parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: Jehan gets captured by the Patron-Minette and is locked in a room with a man sharpening his knife. Fear possesses him as the man introduces light on his features. There was a sense of familiarity he could not specify yet he could feel with certainty.
Relationships: Montparnasse & Jean Prouvaire, Montparnasse/Jean Prouvaire
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	I've seen your face before

**Author's Note:**

> Montparnasse lived in a bad neighbourhood and got dragged into crime in this fic.

With the moon hanging bright in the vacuum of the night sky, it was a clear, ominous sign not to venture out into the streets. Along with the freezing cold air and the frequent deathly winds, life couldn’t have been more obvious in warning Jehan. Typical of him, however, he did not listen. Why? Aesthetics.

Whenever his foot touched the floor, a soft echo would sound and whenever his skin touched the fresh air, he would feel more awake than he had ever felt before. Thus even if the world was spinning in the opposite direction Jehan would not understand the advice of pursuing safety.

Setting down his books at home, he travelled outside, breathing in the smell of emptiness and solitude. With his hands in his coat pockets, he listened to his own footsteps and faintly hummed along to a tune that had been trapped in his brain all day.

It wasn’t soon until he began to detect a following behind him. There were multiple taps on the stony path he could hear, growing heavier and heavier as he advanced further into the shadows. As the darkness became thicker, Jehan escalated his pace but to no avail as the footsteps caught up to him and a hand extended to his mouth.

Jehan thrashed around, trying to bite the hand off as he was dragged into an alleyway, then through a door. 

Upon hitting the wooden floorboards he was quick to bounce back to his feet and stuck like a magnet to the door, yelling.  
“No one can hear you, darling!” A gravel voice cackled from the other side.  
“Deal with him!” A laughing voice cried out.

Slowly realising his fate, Jehan cautiously swiveled around. It took a couple of seconds but his eyes understood the room he was in. Almost every centimetre was plagued with dust drifting down from however dusty the ceiling was. No corner was visible and was cloaked by shadows.

As he stepped forwards he heard a sharp, disrupting sound which instinctively brought his hands to his ears to preserve them. Shaking, he brought his hands back down to grasp what the screech meant. It was the sound of two sharp metals scraping.

Wooden creaks silenced Jehan’s low whimpers. As it grew louder in volume, Jehan thought how he could speak his way out of the situation. From deduction he concluded this was the infamous Patron-Minette, one of many criminal groups which infected the Parisian streets. He never conceived the idea that he could be a victim.

Emerging from the darkness, a beautiful face was presented before him with a feminine anatomical structure. His glowing green eyes of a predator shone brighter as he approached the man closer.  
Jehan gasped as his jaw shook. A tide washed over his brain of feelings of trust yet fear.  
Calmly, the man brought his knife up to his lips as he signalled him to come closer.  
Recognising his face, Jehan obeyed, his breathing unstable.  
Montparnasse bent his back to reach his ear with his lips. “I am here to kill you.”  
Jehan shook.  
“But I won’t.”  
He exhaled with his tears unleashing at the same time.  
“Do you remember me?”  
He nodded slightly.  
“Good. I remember you, Jean Prouvaire.” He smirked as he returned to his normal stance.

It was as if all the tension had been vaporised. The supposed murderer was smiling as he energetically guided him to the window. Once Jehan reached to his side, Montparnasse whispered. “Your cheeks are red.” He pouted as he delicately stroked his cheek. “I said I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, right?”  
“When you told me that, there was no context of death.”  
‘We all have to live one way or the other.”  
“Death is currency for you?”  
“Death is survival for me. Now, step on my hands and I’ll lift you to the window.”

There was so much to say but Jehan merely nodded and followed his instructions.  
With ease, Montparnasse allowed for Jehan to spring up and unlock the window. 

The cold air he loved so much returned back to him in a desperate embrace. He looked down to see Montparnasse below him, his head facing the door. One question eclipsed all his other thoughts: ‘Why was Montparnasse so determined to help him every time there was trouble?’

Shoutings appeared once more from the other side of the door.  
“Go!” Montparnasse broke the silence as he raised his voice, “Now!”  
Jehan frantically nodded as he tried his best to climb out of the window in a short amount of time.

Once hitting the stone floor, he immediately began to sprint back home. He couldn’t believe he made it out alive nor that he met Montparnasse again.  
Jehan hurriedly navigated his way, huffing small steam in front of him. It seemed fate wanted them to meet several times in the future but it was up to them to lead the development of their relationship and how it was going to sprout and flower. As of now, Jehan didn’t have time to think of their possible futures.

He shut the door behind him, his heart racing. He pressed his hand against his chest while he attempted to calm his breathing. He had learned his lesson to not go outside in the dark of the night. A lesson which he would forget.

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back, back writing again? Probably me. Let's see what'll happen to my writing habits xd
> 
> The past between the two characters can be whatever you want it to be, baby.


End file.
